


Mother Mary Sings to Me

by Teigh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teigh/pseuds/Teigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean develops his own superstitions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother Mary Sings to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Pirmarily set before the series, though there are nods to early [primarily Season One] canon. Character death is canonical, and occurs off-screen, prior to this piece. All titles respectively swiped from The Beatles, “Let It Be”; riffing off the prompt ‘copper’. Written for ginny305, on the event of her natal day.

I. In Times of Trouble

“I’m sorry.”  
A smear of ash,  
dust pulling moisture 

from tongue  
 _stealing words_  
from cheek  
 _leaving grief  
crystallized_.

Ashes -  
His Father’s boot prints on the stairs  
heavy tread lined in black.

Dust -  
memory  
that blows away  
when the front door  
shuts.

Condolences are cold.

Intangibles, useless  
though  
each recitation  
of sympathy’s litany  
strikes against His Father,  
lingering embers turning  
cold  
grey  
turning him to stone. 

Dean wants to shout,  
to send these strangers  
made sharp by grief  
away. 

But he can’t speak.

Instead spends a week  
with his hands caught  
into fists.  
Knuckle bones white  
Nails marking red,  
coppery slick  
along his palms. 

Fists,  
until His Father lifts  
his eyes from earth  
 _boot treads lined in black_  
and sees.

“Watch out for your brother, Dean.”  
He says, and sets Sam in his arms.  
The blanket’s soft,  
Sam is warm.  
Dean holds on  
tight as he dares.

 

**II. Speaking Words of Wisdom**

Superstitions:  
Dean collects pennies,  
carries them in his jeans.

They weigh down his pocket,  
and he wears down his cuffs.

Only coins from 1983 count.

Superstitions are just  
stories, time worn  
tarnished through touch.  
Sometimes it's hard to read  
past patina  
 _only 1983 counts_  
but

His Father looks  
and looks and  
so Dean looks too.

By the time Dean's ten,  
he can spot a coin  
half buried  
under a bush at night.

But he's careful,  
won’t  
 _break her back_  
step on cracks in the sidewalk.

 

**III. Broken-hearted People Living**

Digging between seat cushions for toll money.  
Silver pays the way.  
Copper gets left behind.

Dropped on the sidewalk,  
left on windowsills;  
Dean can't decide if  
people don't care,  
or if they are losing  
 _abandoning_  
pieces of themselves.

There might be other reasons.

One thing he's learned;  
Death takes its payment in increments.

He saves  
found copper, scoops up  
a handful left  
scattered  
around a parking meter.  
 _Bright seed for carrion crows_  
But blushes, straightens narrow  
shoulders when  
he feels His Father  
look his way.

Dean knows  
he should leave them behind  
he's fifteen, too old  
to weigh his steps down.

He pockets the pennies anyway.

They jingle together  
sing travel songs  
against his fingers.

 

**IV. Though They May Be Parted**

Dean starts to forget.

Wakes to cold sweat,  
the echo of his own gasps  
loud in a hotel room.

Laughter echoes back  
from the room next door.

He can't remember the sound of his mother's laughter.

These days it seems Dean  
is always looking for the gleam 

_of a smile,_  
of gold hair  
of what remains. 

Still half-mired  
in sleep, he reaches past  
wallet, phone, keys;  
pushes coins  
together.

An old wives tale, heard years ago:  
found pennies are messages from the dead.  
A toll reversed;  
no passage to and from,  
not a silver ferryman’s fee,  
worn on the eyes

but the edge of letters,  
vowel curve,  
consonant whispers-

If arranged correctly  
Dean thinks, perhaps

His dreams  
 _memories_  
will sharpen  
and the scratch  
and mutter at windows  
 _in dreams, only in dreams_  
will become clear;

a companion voice in solitude.

 

**V. Still a Light that Shines**

_Take a penny, give a penny._  
Dean leaves coins  
in every penny dish he finds. 

Diners,  
convenience stores,  
gas stations.

It’s automatic ritual  
customized sign of the cross  
a subtle rosary rolling,  
spooling out along the road.

 _Take a penny_  
Mutable currency,  
leave change  
take a charge-  
currents shaped  
into circles  
linking connections broken  
by distance.

 _Leave a penny_  
He checks, re-checks:  
Copper in his pocket  
Coins in the Impala’s ashtray  
One in his bag  
One in Sam’s pack  
Two with his Dad.

Tenuous but true,  
Conductors  
Picking up signals across the miles.

When it comes to family,  
Dean feels it’s always better to be safe;  
then you’re never sorry.


End file.
